


Steady Hands

by thewordsthatweareneeding



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, can't let go of the hand holding, yOOO first soul eater work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordsthatweareneeding/pseuds/thewordsthatweareneeding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maka is slowly figuring out that her hands always feel empty when they're not holding his. aka, a dumb drabble about dumb kids who keep holding hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady Hands

Maka flexes her right hand. Clenches it into a fist. Repeats.  
It’s not that she’s nervous, it’s just that— well, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. These days, it seems like she never does.  
Next to her, she hears Soul tap his pencil on the desk. It draws Maka’s attention away from her thoughts and back to the lecture. Her cheeks flush. She can feel Soul looking at her still, eyebrows raised.  
“You okay, Maka?” he asks.  
“Fine,” she says.  
She shuffles papers around to look busy enough to prove her point. When he finally looks away, her hands freeze atop her notes. They hover for a moment, and then— it starts again.  
It’s like all at once her body surges with a restlessness that flows directly into her hands and she thinks if she doesn’t move all the energy will overwhelm her. It used to happen only when she was scared, but lately, it’s been inescapable. When she cooks, her free hand twists at the hem of her sweater. When she studies, her fingers tap a rhythm against her notebook. Even when she stands still, she has to fight the urge to keep from wringing her hands. She hasn’t been able to concentrate properly in weeks.  
“Maka,” Soul says.  
She doesn’t hear.  
“Maka,” he says again.  
Maka keeps flexing and clenching and twisting her hand. Soul sighs, and then his hand slips into hers, finally stilling it. Maka looks up at him in surprise.  
She exhales slowly. Calmly. Her mind is back in the classroom. The ground is beneath her feet. Soul is at her side, and she knows where she is. Who she is. The warmth of his hand is as familiar to her as the coolness of the staff of his scythe form, and it brings her back to herself.  
Maka squeezes Soul’s hand just once, gently, and all the restlessness is gone.


End file.
